


same old things (turn me inside out)

by growlery writes (growlery)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 12:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13053780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery%20writes
Summary: Raven takes over the shop when her mother dies.





	same old things (turn me inside out)

**Author's Note:**

> this is kind of a precursor to a larger story i'm still figuring out, but i think it stands alone well enough if i never make that happen.

Raven takes over the shop when her mother dies. Everything else had to be sold to pay off her debts, and Raven thinks it would probably have been sold, too, if it had ever actually made any money.

As it is, Raven returns from the crematorium to find the debtors packing up their meagre possessions. She lifts her chin and watches them finish.

"Good luck," one of them says to her. There is pity on his face and in his voice, and Raven has to keep herself from snarling.

She puts the urn down behind the till and goes to the workshop to assess the damage. All the machinery is accounted for, but the supply cupboard is several sheets lighter, and Raven's glad she put her mother's ashes down or she would have smashed them on the floor.

Behind her, the bell tinkles. Raven is ready to scream. She doesn't know if it's a customer or a well-wisher or which would be worse, but it turns out to be neither.

"Hey," says Bellamy Blake. Her mother hired him a few months ago when things were starting to pick up, to clean and tidy and keep the books in order. Raven didn't think to tell him what had happened, but from the white lilies he's holding, it's clear he already knows. She wonders if it's got around the whole town already, or if knowing is just one of those mage things.

"I don't know if I'll be able to keep you on," she says abruptly. "They took everything but the shop."

"It won't make anything better," Bellamy says, "but I'm sorry."

There's a chasm inside Raven that feels like it will never close.

"I'm going to figure out just how fucked this is," she tells him. "If we get any customers, take their details. I'll get back to them tomorrow. If we get any well-wishers, tell them to get the fuck out."

Bellamy nods. He's still holding the flowers, but he pulls his hand back, and with a soft word, they vanish.

*

The first week is rough.

The bastards lifted almost a tonne of workable material, Raven discovers once she's done a full inventory. That's two contracts she won't be able to complete on time. One of them screams in Raven's face. The other says they could give her another week, but any longer just simply isn't reasonable, and she understands that, doesn't she? Her mother would understand. Raven has a lot to learn.

Raven wants to kill them both. She maybe would have, were it not for Bellamy.

Bellamy comes in every morning an hour earlier than he used to and checks out an hour later, and Raven's running up an IOU she still doesn't know if she can cover, but the sting of shame is worth it. Raven was a permanent fixture in the workshop from the moment she could crawl into it, but she doesn't have a fucking clue about running a business. Not that her mother ever had - that's why she'd hired Bellamy, after all.

"Smartest thing she ever did," Raven says humourlessly. It's the end of the week, the first week After, and Bellamy closed up the shop early and produced a bottle of whiskey from seemingly nowhere.

Bellamy had been holding the bottle, rolling it between his hands, but he passes it over immediately, and Raven takes a long swig, resolutely not wincing at the taste.

"Where did you get this," she says, "it tastes like tar." Bellamy laughs softly, and she slants him a look. "It wasn't tar, was it?"

"I'm not that kind of mage," he says, and takes the bottle back from her, takes a sip. She can almost feel him considering his next words. "I didn't know your mother very well, but it seemed like she did her best."

Raven's laugh is a little hollow. "That she did," she agrees. "Her best just wasn't very good."

It's Bellamy's turn to look at her sidelong. She doesn't meet his eyes, but she can feel the weight of them on her, and she wishes she hadn't said anything, but these things bubble up, sometimes. 

"I know how that goes," Bellamy says. He grimaces. "Welcome to the shitty dead moms club, I guess. I'm sorry."

Raven's mouth twists. "Me too."

*

It turns out that Bellamy is a lightweight. They finish the bottle between them, and before it's half empty he's giggly and flushed-cheeked and loose. Raven's never seen this Bellamy before, and honestly, it feels like he's been holding out on her. It's not that he's shitty company usually, far from it, but his eyes are sparkling and his face is so warm and the knot in her chest has unwound, just a bit.

“Don't suppose you have another one of these,” Raven says, twirling the empty bottle in her hand. 

Bellamy shakes his head sadly. “If I'd taken any more, Kane would've noticed and got pissed at me. God, he's gonna be so pissed when I come home drunk. Worth it.”

“You don't have to go home,” Raven says, and Bellamy looks at her, raises his eyebrows, says, “Oh don't I?”

“That's not what I meant, asshole,” Raven says, and she's blushing, she can feel that she's blushing. It's the alcohol, probably, and the ridiculousness of the implication, and not at all the fact that part of her maybe did mean it that way. “We have a spare room now. You can sleep in the spare room.”

Bellamy hmms. “Would that be okay?”

“I wouldn't have said it if it weren't,” she says, and Bellamy nods. She gets up, holds out a hand to pull Bellamy to his feet, takes great pride in being able to steady him. 

*

The thing is. 

The thing is, Raven hasn't been in her mom's room since- since before. She hasn't even opened the door. She's not going to let it be a thing, she's not, except they stop in front of the door and her chest is tight and there's tears in her fucking eyes. She hates this. 

“Raven?” Bellamy says, soft, more sober than he's sounded in a while. “It's okay. I can still go home.”

Raven takes a deep breath. She closes her hand on the doorknob and pushes the door open, and there's not a monster waiting to devour her but a distinct feeling of emptiness that only amplifies the ache in her chest. 

“Get yourself comfortable,” she says to Bellamy. “If you puke, you're cleaning it up.”

He touches her arm. “Good night, Raven,” he says, and Raven nods. 

On her way out of the room, she notices her mother's urn sitting on the side table. She didn't put it there. She glances back at Bellamy, who's fumbling out of his clothes, then drags her gaze back, swallows, and shuts the door behind her.


End file.
